The Traitor in Me
by Derruhm
Summary: What constitutes glory? Is it won in battles? Or is glory an act outside of war? Can it justify the crimes we commit in its name? No one pretends to know. Implied Prussia/Russia. Notcrazy!Russia.


**The Traitor in Me**

XxX

In October 1806 the Prussian armies were defeated by Napoleon. The Prussians, unwilling to give up, continued fighting in their eastern regions with their ally, Russia. However, Alexander I and Napoleon signed a peace treaty in 1807, effectively ending Russia's alliance with Prussia. Prussia ultimately lost the war and was subjugated to years under French rule in the Continental System.

XxX

Prussia sat quietly, his eyes scanning over the maps with building frustration. He refused to lose here! He gritted his teeth and slammed his fists on the table in a rage.

"I take it that it is not good, da?" Russia asked, giving the smaller nation a confused look.

"That bastard! I refuse to lose here! I REFUSE!" Prussia snapped, pounding the table again. Pain bit into his hand, but he resentfully shrugged it off. He bit his lip, looking over the map again. There was no way out of this one. He had them. That bastard Napoleon had them! He howled and kicked over the table in a fit.

"Maybe... you should just give up Prussia?" Russia offered, his usual chipper smile faltering slightly. "I mean, France isn't such a bad guy. And your friend Austria gave up years ago..."

"And he's a miserable slave!" Prussia said pointedly, poking Russia in the chest to emphasize this. "I am a Prussian. A Prussian I will be. No Frenchman is going to one up me! I'm not going to let this happen! I refuse!"

Russia gave Prussia an exasperated look and sighed. "How many of your people have to die for you to be right Prussia?"

"Don't YOU lecture me on how to treat MY people RUSSIA," Prussia snapped back. He was frustrated, and it seemed he was going to be alone of the battle field. Russia had been supporting him less and less every day. Now he was trying to get him to surrender? Unforgivable! "Listen you dolt! I know that you Russians might not have any concept of honor or pride! But we Prussian's do! We don't run away like cowards. Now are you going to help me or not?"

Russia stared blankly at his infuriated ally. He was quiet for a moment, looking at the ground in a contemplative silence before he said, "Da." He nodded slowly, "What are your plans Prussia?"

Prussia frowned at Russia's hesitance, but he didn't push further. He set the table back up and carefully pinned the map back to it. "You see, that numbskull Frenchman has troops here, here, and here," he said, pointing to corresponding X's on the map. "However, he doesn't have anything here. It would be possible to move through this gap, get behind them, and cut off their supply lines. We could easily ambush them from behind and wipe them out!"

"But you're still out numbered Prussia," Russia pointed out as he mentally went over the numbers.

"That's where you come in my good friend," Prussia said, slapping Russia on the back. "I want you to help me surround the frogs and thin them out."

Russia frowned. "That sounds dangerous."

"Hey, the greatest military tacticians are looked at as crazy and superfluous before the battle. It is reckless, but if all goes according to plan it will be a glorious victory. One they'll right down in the history books for ages. Eternal glory and fame for us and our people. And getting to piss on the grave of Napoleon should be worth it all its own," Prussia said, laughing manically at the thought.

"So how many more will die for your glory?" Russia asked stoically, looking at the map. The move Prussia was suggesting wasn't some sort of amazing coup, it was the Russian army walking into a slaughter.

"Russia, we're at war. Our very existence hangs in the balance! Do you want to become part of France!?" Prussia crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at Russia menacingly (as much he could muster from his height).

"Nooo.... but" Russia tried to talk.

"No more buts! I'm going to start moving my troops tonight. I suggest you do the same," Prussia said with a curt nod, then left Russia alone to his thoughts.

"I do not want to see any more Russian blood feeding Prussian soil," Russia said, shaking his head. He knew Prussia wouldn't stop this futile madness until he'd been completely wiped off the map. Russia realized that it was up to him to save Prussia from his own damn Prussian Pride.

He looked around, then carefully unpinned the map, rolling it up, and tucking it in his sleeve. He wasn't going to let this disaster happen...

XxX

Prussia sighed as he rubbed his temples. This plan was a lot harder than he thought it would be. It looked so simple on paper. Quietly marching an army through a tiny gap in enemy lines was no simple matter. His troops were all sore, tired, underfed, and uninspired.

"C'mon men! For Glory! We are Prussians! We will not be defeated by the likes of the French," Prussia called, attempting to rally his men somewhat. There was a general stir of moderate approval, but the rest were labored groans of worn out soldiers. They'd been fighting this war way too long. For miles upon miles they'd listened to their leader promise them eternal fame and glory. He'd promised them all the worldly good they could desire. He promised it would only be a few more miles or one more hill until they could rest. They all knew it was lies though. Anything to keep them moving. And when they finally crested that last hill...

They saw the French army waiting for them.

"B-but how!?" Prussia stuttered as the first shots rang out. They'd walked right into a French ambush.

XxX

Tired, exhausted, and wounded Prussians dragged their broken bodies and broken spirits back to the east. Not to regroup. Not to formulate a new plot. Not to fortify their lines.... but to give up. Prussia himself needed the support of two other men just to walk. A bullet had buried itself in his ribcage during the ambush and had left him in pain, barely able to breathe.

When the Prussian army, the few tattered remains of it, finally reached it's eastern border they came face to face with another army. The army of their ally! Here to defend them! Prussia smiled and pulled away from the men helping him walk, staggering up to Russia. He grabbed the taller male's coat and clung to it like death. "Russia... Russia you're here...Thank god. France... He found out, somehow. They ambushed us... This is all that's left... Russia," Prussia's smile faded as he saw the dire look in Russia's eyes.

Russia shoved the crippled nation away and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see what had become of the little nation he'd once been so fond of. "My boss," he said slowly, "and France's boss.... they signed a treaty Prussia. I can no longer fight for you. I am here to tell you to give up."

"What!?" Prussia snarled. He couldn't believe this! "Russia! Look at what is left of us! If we give up now they all would have died in vain!"

"They wouldn't have had to die in the first place if you'd surrender before like I said to," Russia snapped back. Prussia was taken aback. He'd never heard Russia raise his voice before. It was enough to suck the spirit out of you. He fell to his knees, staring at the red earth.

"Russia..." Prussia pleaded. He looked up at the stronger nation pleadingly. He knew Russia could crush him if he wanted to. He always could have. But he never did. He'd stuck by him for this long. Why now? Why was he leaving him now? "Please...Russia... you can't do this to me... after all we've been through."

"Prussia... you are young compared to me," Russia said sternly, though there was a chiding gentleness to it, as a teacher might tell a crying child. "Alliances will come and go. They will mean everything to you one day and nothing the next. It is only about what best serves your causes. You would have done well to give up long ago and save yourself and your people the trouble."

Prussia grabbed Russia's coat again ans used it to pull himself to his feet. He stood there, shakily, staring up at Russia. He didn't know Russia was so... mature. It was easy to be thrown off by those childish eyes and melancholy smiles.

"Time will change us all Prussia. One day you will not be the same as you are now. And one day you may cease to be at all. Until that day comes you have to take care of yourself and your people. Treat them well. Treat them with respect. Take solace in the fact you have done a good job. People will remember you for that. That is your real eternal glory," Russia mused softly, petting the Prussian's hair. He gingerly kissed the top of Prussia's head and told him, "it was I who gave France the knowledge of your attack."

"What!" Prussia said, immediately shoving Russia away, falling backwards on his ass as a result of it.

"It was the only way to save you from yourself," Russia said softly. There was no regret, no remorse in his words or actions. "You will have to surrender now. And then, you can start to rebuild. You will survive Prussia."

"I can never forgive you for this," Prussia stated plainly, beckoning one of his men to come and help him to his feet.

Russia smirked, he couldn't help it. "From you... I wouldn't expect anything less."

"I'll get you back," Prussia swore as he limped away. "I promise you that."

Russia smiled at him, a silly childish smile, and waved. He murmured to himself, "And I promise that one day again we will be Allies Prussia. You will see..."


End file.
